


my dearest love, my darling valentine

by Vintage (KyberHearts)



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One-Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberHearts/pseuds/Vintage
Summary: a/n: shut up im so in love with elijah (and i've only just finished the second season no spoilers)





	my dearest love, my darling valentine

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: shut up im so in love with elijah (and i've only just finished the second season no spoilers)

The studio apartment, however cramped or quaint or paltry as others may describe, resembles a home.

Its walls are plastered with canvases doused in shades of gray and the occasional splash of midnight blue. There are dozens of opened, half-read books which, more often than not, used to belong to grand old witches with dreams of reinventing the French Quarter into a magic-driven, powerful utopia. Handmade candles lurk in every crook and cranny. The scent of dragon’s blood incense wafts down the narrow halls. 

Somehow, someway, it also becomes a sanctuary.

In a scene that you are all too familiar with, you enter the apartment and greet the sight of Elijah Mikaelson loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. The window on the far wall is wide open and New Orleans’s music quietly invite itself to the home.

“As much as I enjoy these romantic trysts,” the Original says, “Promise me I won’t have to climb through the window for much longer.”

“Perhaps I like my suitors only after they’ve climbed a mere two stories to court me,” you tease. “Out of breath, ruddy-faced, with scraped knees and branches in their hair.” Though the most roguish quality about Elijah might be his crooked smirk, he drifts forward to playfully pinch your chin, silently scolding you.

Then he leans down and kisses you, his mouth on yours as fleeting as a falling feather. “I hardly envision you as the princess locked in a tower,” he breathes. His eyebrows arch in question. “Oh. Maybe you see me as the knight-errant.”

“My noble Elijah,” you laugh, slipping the silk tie over his head. “What sort of wicked challenges did you overcome today?”

“Unlawful brothers and impulsive sisters serve a...  _ unique  _ kind of havoc on this city. So do rivaling alphas across the river, not that the wolves here consider peace as an alternative to violence. Did I mention the once-missing dark objects suddenly reappeared in the hands of renegade vampires?” As Elijah talks, his hands, resting on your waist, move delicately and lightly. He removes your purse, then your coat, and starts toying with your shirt buttons. “And how was your day?”

“Nine witch covens, nine different headaches,” you say dryly. “Vodka might help. Vodka might help a  _ lot. _ ” The Original bites his lip, yet is unable to help smiling. 

“I believe I have a better remedy.” Elijah runs a careful thumb over your cheek, and then interlaces your hands together. “Come to bed,” he says softly, and you relent. The two of you sit at the edge of the tidy blankets when he seeks another kiss, just as soft, just as chaste.

The lights in the studio apartment flicker a few times, and then go completely out. You feel the vampire tense under your touch, and you quietly reassure him. “Just the wiring,” you tell him. “Happened twice in the past week. Landlord’s supposed to fix it.”

“I might--” His mouth slot against yours for a moment-- “be able to offer some incentive.”

“Compulsion’s useless. His water’s laced with vervain. Anyways, I don’t think faulty fuses are a top priority for a thousand year old vampire. Gods know I’m not going to worry about it.”

You pass your hands in the direction of the nightstand and half a dozen candles shiver awake, their small flames barely illuminating Elijah’s figure. He eventually settles you down on the sheets and tucks his head in the crook of your neck. 

“How’s that headache of yours?” he murmurs drowsily.

“Gone. Just like magic.”

He smiles that damn smile of his: the upward quirk of his lips, the knowing tilt of his head, and the crinkling crow’s feet around his eyes. A low laugh rumbles through his chest, interrupting the steady rise and fall with each breath. You stroke his pliant hair, its coffee color dark against the white sheets.

“Elijah… you can come anytime you like, you know. Not just when you need a moment away from your siblings. Despite what others say, I don’t think you’re that stuffy.”

“Merely old-fashioned.”

“Whatever suits your fancy, dearest.” You kiss his forehead. “I think you’re wonderful.”

Again, his breath hitches in his throat. The vampire lets out a slow, shuddering sigh and you swear, you can hear his disbelief. His fingers skate along your arm, then your wrist, where he easily finds the pulsepoint. “You… let me into your life,” he whispers. “You know my reputation. I can only hope this does not ruin you.” 

“I did not decide this alone, Elijah,” you remind him gently. “I may have invited you, but you’re the one asking for a key.”

He feels something small and cold press into his palm. Without looking down, he knows the texture and shape. You’d stopped by the locksmith earlier and made another copy for the studio apartment. The simple gesture feels like a shard twisting, sinking into his chest, so why does he hold the key tighter, and your body even closer? Why does he seek your lips in a desperate kiss?

“Thank you.”

“Mmm. You’re always welcome here.” You shut your eyes. As an afterthought, you add, “Not your naughty siblings. Don’t you dare bring them, Elijah, or it’s back to climbing through the window.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”


End file.
